


Dangerous

by KTfromTHEstix



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:00:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23033611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KTfromTHEstix/pseuds/KTfromTHEstix
Summary: She felt his stare, and he thought he’d been hit again when her eyes met his. Vibrant amethyst clashed with his own piercing gold irises. She held his gaze, her pink lips relaxed into a hint of a smile. Something about her called to him.Geralt is boxing his way through grad school and Yennefer is trapped in a loveless relationship. Cue the angst.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 33
Kudos: 76





	1. Something About You

**Author's Note:**

> Title and fic inspired by the song Dangerous, by Two Steps from Hell, feat. Linea – which plays during the credits of Cavill’s 2019 film, Night Hunter. 
> 
> AN: We are OOC to a certain extent here folks, be warned. This is a tired old trope but I gotta have that hurt/comfort. Rating hike next chapter.

“They say you hide a devil inside, you are dangerous. _So am I._ ”

-Geralt-

He feigned right and powered a left handed punch that made contact with the side of his opponent’s head with a dull slap.The previously abandoned warehouse echoed with the roar of the fight. The ebb and flow of the crowd’s ‘ooohhhs’ and ‘aaahhhs’ was punctuated with shouted obscenities and the percussive hits thrown by the two competitors.

He was big, bulky through the chest and shoulders, but faster than he looked. He had a slight advantage being a south paw, but his right hook slammed home with just as much force and accuracy. He took a hard hit to the side of the face, but recovered with a mighty left handed uppercut that rocked the other brawler backwards.

He closed in to finish him off. Sweat sprayed wide as he landed strike after strike, to the ribs, then the man’s kidney. There were no bells, no rounds, and barely a referee. It was a knockout fight, the first man to incapacitate his foe would be granted the victory.

“Now Geralt, left _, left_!” A shorter, brown haired man cried from the corner of the crowd, fists balled and shadowboxing.

The men fought on a mat, but no ropes separated them from the baying crowd. Only the implicit fear of a wayward punch kept the perimeter of the fight free of over aggressive thrill seekers. And the unruly crowd _was_ aggressive, bloodthirsty even. Every man and woman in the place had a vested interest in the match, bookies circled like sharks in warm water, waiting for one of the men to falter.

The fair haired fighter pressed forward again, each muscular arm landing blows like a battering ram. One last powerful jab square in the face of his opponent sent him swirling down to the mat with a hard smack. The crowd erupted.

Onlookers on the small set of fold up bleachers stood in celebration, others swore at their misfortune. It was then that he noticed her. She didn’t cheer, nor throw her hands up in frustration. She sat serenely in the sea of movement, lip held tight by pearly white teeth. Her dark curls gleamed in the flood lights, delicate features evident even from the distance between them.

She felt his stare, and he thought he’d been hit again when her eyes met his. Vibrant amethyst clashed with his own piercing gold irises. She held his gaze, her pink lips relaxed into a hint of a smile. Something about her called to him.

He wiped at a rivulet of blood that had run into his eye, and started toward her, weaving through the crowd. His eyes remained locked with hers over the heads of the people slowly dispersing around them. He got halfway to her when her body jerked to the side abruptly, a big hand wrapped around her upper arm.

Geralt stopped short, and the man who’d grabbed her wove the pair through the crowd toward the exit. He watched her struggle to keep up with his long stride, before turning back to look back at him again before he pulled her through the doorway.

\------

“Geralt man, that was impressive!” His friend approached as he jammed a wad of bills into the pocket of his jeans. 

He grunted in response.

“Yeouch, let’s get something on that eye.” He reached into a black duffel bag and handed Geralt a shirt, before fishing out a compact first aid kit.

Jaskier carefully applied a butterfly bandage to the slice on Geralt’s eyebrow.

“When’s the next fight Jask?” He asked.

“There’s one on Tuesday, but I don’t have us in until next Sunday, why?” He closed the first aid kit.

“Get me on for Tuesday.”

“Why man? I thought you had your school loans paid up. You’re graduating in like a month or two aren’t you?” He insisted.

“Just do it. Please.” He urged.

“All right, but the Tuesday night dudes are pretty beefy. I would have thought you’d want to go out on top, your record is choice right now.” Jaskier took out his phone and sent a text to the underground event promoter.

“If I’m quitting soon anyway, what does my record matter?” He countered as he slipped on a thick coat Jaskier had handed him. They walked toward the door, the room nearly empty.

“Fuck your record, it’s your face I’m thinking of.” He confessed before they plunged into the brisk night air.

\---------------------------

-Yennefer-

She sat on the cool metal bench, nervous anticipation making her leg shake ever so slightly. Her husband, Vilgefortz (Victor), sat next to her. He was in a shitty mood, he’d lost a considerable sum of money at the prior fight. He’d bet against the _famous_ White Wolf, hoping for an upset’s favorable odds. The moniker had been given to due to his unique white hair and piercing golden hazel eyes. His winning record spoke for itself, the man was a gladiator in the boxing ring.

Victor had only recently begun dragging her to these events, she thought it was another way for him to keep tabs on her, to keep control. There were to be two feature fights that evening, and _he_ would be last. Victor had, yet again, bet against him. _Idiot_. He checked his phone for the tenth time in as many minutes. She was fairly certain he was cheating on her, and yet couldn’t find it in her heart to be upset about it. She was finished with him, beyond done with their abusive relationship.

She saw his distinctive white hair at the edge of the crowd. He stood taller than many of the men in attendance, and his broad shoulders and muscular build set him even further apart. He looked up, their eyes met - something electric again fizzed inside her at his piercing eyes. She’d seen gorgeous men before, what was it with this one? Why was she inexplicably drawn to him?

He raised his hand slightly to her, and motioned his head to the side. There were dressing rooms for the fighters in what must have been offices when the warehouse was originally in use.

She turned to her husband, “Restroom,” and gathered her purse.

“Hurry up, the first fight is about to start and I don’t want to be fussing with you sitting back down and miss something crucial.” He dictated.

She nodded submissively. It wasn’t worth it with him anymore. She learned long ago that calling him out on his overbearing behavior would just result in something worse later on.

She made her way through the gathering crowd, and ducked tentatively into the dressing room corridor. He was waiting for her with a soft smile. She stopped close to him, people came and went in the hallway around them and there wasn’t much extra room.

“Hi.” His voice was deeper than she expected. It was low and gravely, and she could swear it warmed her from the inside out.

“Hi.” She breathed. _Smooth_ Yennefer. He was even more striking up close. Tall, with chiseled features, impeccable physique and _god_ that alabaster hair. It was long and thick enough to be considered a blow out, but messy at the same time. He was no fussy, fancy man.

“There’s something about you, I don’t know what it is, but I had to meet you.” He hesitated, as though she might turn and run at any moment. “I’m Geralt.”

“Yennefer.” Her eyes blazed with curiosity as she shuffled closer, standing almost between his feet to avoid being bumped by people bustling through.

“I -“, “Do you”, they’d both started talking at the same time. It was loud and echoing in the corridor, but their world seemed to shrink down to only the small distance between them.

She drew her lower lip between her teeth before dancing her thumb near the barely healed cut above his eye. “Does it still hurt?” She whispered.

“No.” He murmured under his breath. He bent until his nose nudged against hers.

Her fingertips trailed from his eyebrow into his wavy hair. She felt his warm hands come to rest against her waist, hers laid against his chest. Their lips were agonizingly close, his breath became hers.

She leaned into him, pressing a chaste kiss to the stubble on his jaw, before nestling her face to his shoulder. He wrapped the hands from her waist tightly around her back and held her close. He filled his lungs with the scent of her, the soft arch of her neck warm and inviting.

The whistle blew to signal the first fight was beginning.

The spell was broken, and she knew her husband would be pissed that she’d taken so long.

They pulled apart slowly and reluctantly. She dug her phone from her purse and handed it to him wordlessly. He returned it to her with his information inside, but caught her left hand and spun her plain silver wedding band around her finger slowly.

Her dark lashes fluttered shut. Of course he would obviously wonder what she was thinking, coming to him a married woman. He wore an imploring expression, but by some miracle she didn’t feel like he was judging her.

“I can explain.” He seemed satisfied with her answer for the moment. “Tomorrow night, he’s out of town. Can we talk?” There she went, putting herself out there. She hadn’t this much interest, connection, with a man since high school, and she didn’t want to give that up _damnit_.

“Five Point? Nine o’clock?” He offered.

She knew the diner, it was one of the most popular in Seattle. She nodded in agreement.

She turned to leave, but thought better of it and leaned up to press a gentle kiss to his rough cheek. “Stay safe.” Her dark eyes twinkled with affection, his responded with surprise, then warmth.

———

-Geralt-

The man he was scheduled to fight could have been an extra for the movie _Gladiator_. The two men currently scrapping were nothing to laugh at either. Jaskier was right, the Tuesday night line up of fighters was impressive, but he still believed it was worth it. _She_ was worth it. They barely said more than a few words to each other, but he wanted to know her, to spend his time with her.

He stood in the shadows, and watched her return to her seat. She shuffled across _his_ line of view, and it was evident that he was berating her. Geralt clenched his jaw, watching her silently sit and absorb the tongue lashing. Crew cut hair, what he presumed to be a handsome face, and a temper issue. Her _husband_ was a big enough guy, and if part of their dynamic included physical violence, she would be no match for him. His gaze darkened.

The whistle sounded, calling the first fight, and he peeled his shirt off. Jaskier had plans that night, so he was on his own. His opponent was big, bald and angry as hell. Geralt was tall, but this beast was a head taller, barrel chested and his legs looked like tree trunks. His red shorts boasted a gold swastika, and he _growled_ as his trainer amped him up.

Geralt pulled his gloves on and stretched out with significantly less fanfare. The mat was already slick with blood from the prior fight. The first strains of Disturbed’s _Down with the Sickness_ blared from a bluetooth speaker the man’s trainer held. _Really?_

The whistle blew, and Geralt immediately began moving across the mat. The big man swung and Geralt slipped past his fist. _Good, he was slow_. He used the knowledge to his advantage, skirting punches and pivoting to land his own.

Apparently he wasn’t the only man to use that approach against the behemoth, because he anticipated Geralt’s next strike, blocked it, and leveled a heavy arm into his ribs. A second and third hit slammed into his other side and then a blow to the diaphragm. He fell to his knees, winded, and tempted a glance at her while the giant raised his arms and spurred the crowd on.

She was leaning forward off the edge of her seat, wide eyed look of concern on her beautiful face. Her husband cheered wildly next to her, he’d bet _against_ him. The muscles in Geralt’s jaw ticked as his expression curled into a snarl around his mouth guard. The big oaf should have finished him when he had the chance. He waited until he stepped close again to launch up from his knees and connect a powerhouse uppercut from below the man’s jaw with a loud crack.

He dropped like a mighty redwood. Out cold. The warehouse burst into deafening chaos.

\----------------------

-Yennefer-

She slipped into the diner unnoticed by all except the white haired man at a booth in the far corner, who sipped black coffee occasionally and read from a large textbook. She sat down across from him, and took off her scarf and coat. He closed his book and the waitress came over to take her order for a second coffee and a slice of apple pie.

“Kinesiology?” She inquired at the cover.

He nodded, “My last semester, Physical Therapy.”

“That’s wonderful.” She smiled softly. “I was headed for pre law.” Her gaze dropped.

The waitress brought her coffee, and she took a forkful of the pie before sliding the plate toward him and offering to share. He swiped an apple with his own fork.

“What happened?” He prodded.

His presence was calming, and for the first time in years she didn’t feel consumed by regret and anxiety. She told him everything. She and her husband Vince were high school sweethearts, he a varsity running back and she a cheerleader. He was her first boyfriend, and it didn’t take long for their relationship to get serious. They married young four years ago, her nineteen to his twenty, and it wasn’t long after the wedding that she realized she had made a horrible mistake.

Her had parents passed away in an automobile accident during Yennefer's first year of marriage, taking her sister and only sibling with them. The tragedy effectively made her emotionally and financially dependent on him. Her plans for school somehow became plans for night classes, then none at all. Her friends spent less and less time with her, his overbearing presence distasteful and he _let_ her go out with them a fraction of the times she hoped to go.

She closed her eyes against the memories and emotions that threatened to flood her senses, and he laid his hand over hers, rubbing comforting circles with his thumb.

She felt trapped. He’d manipulated her away from her remaining family and friends, and isolated her from the things she loved. She had no work experience, no college education, and her husband had squandered and spent all her money and anything she received from her parent’s estate. If she walked out the door and away from his emotional abuse, she would be homeless. She hated him.

The pie was long gone, and the waitress came by to refill their coffee mugs.

He smiled when she dumped four entire sugar packets in hers.

“So that’s me in a nutshell. Catch of the year.” She mumbled out, eyes cast downward.

“Hey.” He tipped up her chin with his finger. “All that’s not you. That’s what’s happened to you.”

She shrugged, not accustomed to anything other than cutting remarks and disapproving sighs.

“Are you still interested in law? I have an attorney friend, she’s a divorce attorney actually – she might be able to pull some strings and get you an internship. You’re still so young, there is plenty of time to go back to school if that’s what you want.” He offered.

She was shocked. “Why would you do that for someone you just met?” She blurted out.

He shrugged. “I like you, Yennefer. Life and that prick have beaten you back, but you’re strong. You’ll make it out, you just need a little help. Someone helped me once, I can stand to return the favor.”

Searching his expression and finding only genuine concern, she asked, “Who helped you?”

“Vesemir, my undergrad hockey coach.” He supplied, then paused.

She leaned closer, “Well, do tell.” Urging him on with an impish smile.

The corners of his mouth turned up slowly. “A long long time ago, in a galaxy far far away…”

“Oh my god, Geralt!” She whined.

“What?” He feigned innocence, “It was a long time ago, I’m twenty eight.” He conceded.

She rolled her eyes heavenward, “You old man you.”

Amusement reflected in his sharp eyes, but he pushed foreword with his tale as she’d requested. Geralt had lost his parents too. His mother had died in childbirth, but his father had been a wonderful and caring parent. Once an amateur boxer, he set aside his passion, albeit a risky one, to learn a skilled trade and provide a stable home life for his young son.

Working in HVAC and installing furnaces wasn’t glamorous work, but it kept food on their table and Geralt in skates. He was a standout hockey player, rising quickly through the ranks on his school teams and competing in state wide championships. While attending the University of Washington on a full ride hockey scholarship, his father suffered a heart attack and passed away suddenly.

Geralt's deep, steady voice wavered and she slid from her side of the booth to sit next to him, her left hand intertwined with his right.

He was lost without his father’s steadfast guidance and support. His grades slipped, and he lost his scholarship. He began brawling, dirty street fights that left him physically broken each night, and too exhausted to deal with his loss. It was his coach who stepped in, and figuratively pulled Geralt back to shore.

 _If you’re going to fight_ , he’d said, _do it right and don’t get yourself killed_. Although a hockey coach, Vesemir knew a thing or two about boxing, and Geralt trained incessantly. Day after day, night after night, he beat his rage and grief out into the punching bags at the school’s gym. His father had been a southpaw, a solid contender, and had made a respectable name for himself in the amateur boxing world. Geralt found that the apple didn’t fall far from the tree, he possessed a natural talent for the sport.

She reached her free hand against his side, “How are your ribs? That man was massive yesterday.” She worried her lip.

“They’ll be fine,” He pulled up his shirt just far enough that she could see the angry black and blue blotches that marred his skin.

She gasped, but he only smiled. “Routine, no worries.” He let the shirt fall.

“Will you stop? Once you no longer have to fund your education?”

“That was the original plan, but time will tell. I’ve got my eye on some land in Redmond. Love to tell my landlord off and build out there. I have a job waiting for me at the university, in the coaching department with Vesemir.” He offered, far away expression on his face.

“That sounds wonderful. You have your life and goals well in hand. I am jealous.” She admitted.

He pulled out his phone, fired off a quick text, and replaced it in his coat pocket.

“There. Now you’re working on your goals too. Her name’s Renfri, she’s very smart and successful, and I’m sure she can find somewhere to fit you in at her office. You can decide if that’s really the direction you want to go, and learn in the meantime.”

She brushed a kiss to his shoulder. “Thank you.” Her eyes flickered with gratitude.

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

He peered out the window into the night. “It’s late, and the snow’s picking up, you’d better get home. Let me warm up your car.”

He tossed a twenty dollar bill on the table and she handed him her keys. She watched from inside the front door as he pulled her car up and meticulously scraped and cleared the snow that had fallen while they talked. There were only a handful of other patrons left in the diner, and even fewer cars in the lot.

He came back inside with a blast of frigid air that rustled the faux fur lining on her coat. A shiver ran through her, and he took the soft ivory hat from her gloved hands. He slipped it down over her raven curls slowly, and she nuzzled her face against his broad palm.

He bent low and eased his lips against hers. His were surprisingly soft, but firm, and she chased them when he began to pull away. She leaned into him, the heels of her boots leaving the floor as she wrapped her arms around his neck and his around her waist.

They broke for air, and he rested his forehead against hers. Her eyelids fluttered open to see desire and warmth reflected in his gaze. Her tongue darted out to wet her bottom lip and he captured both, her soft gasp cut off by his seeking lips.

She pressed her chest against his, and moaned into his mouth when his tongue parted her lips to meet hers. His grip on her waist tightened, and he groaned when she plunged her tongue past his, taking on the more assertive role.

The diner and the rest of the world had long faded away, until an old man once buried in a pile of newspapers at the counter whistled long and low at their embrace.

They broke apart again, a rosy blush staining her porcelain skin.

“Tomorrow?” He whispered into the shell of her ear.

“Tomorrow.” She murmured.

She stepped from his embrace begrudgingly, and with a small wave, stepped into the pitch dark night.


	2. When It All Falls Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yennefer starts a new career, but there are bumps the the road for both she and Geralt. One major bump being that infernal husband of hers.

-Yennefer -

“So, since you’ll have your company car, you won’t mind if I take the Subaru Monday?” she asked, holding her breath for her husband’s response.

“Make sure you put gas in it, and make sure you park in the back of the lot. These assholes with kids don’t pay attention and I’m buffing out door dings all damn weekend.” He bitched.

“Absolutely, no problem.” She hurried to agree.

“Where is this place again?” Victor challenged.

“The law firm is in Bellevue, off the 405. Nice big lots, the car will be safe.” She placated him. Any other husband would be worried about _her_ safety, but she knew better.

He grumbled and walked away, head bent over his phone. She didn’t bother to say thank you, because fuck it, that was _her_ car anyway. She worked her ass off during high school at the local car wash to buy it, and every time she drove to get groceries or go anywhere he acted like it was a huge inconvenience.

Her father was probably turning in his grave. She tried to be patient though, there was new light at the end of the tunnel.

———

Yennefer pulled into the parking lot of Blaviken Law, LLP. Geralt’s friend Renfri was a partner in the firm. He knew her through his friend Jaskier, they had dated at one point. Although, Geralt had used the phrase, “She chewed him up and spit him out,” so dated might have been a bit of a stretch.

She’d chosen a silky violet blouse, a black pencil skirt and high black pumps. She hadn’t worn heels since her graduation, but she took it as an encouraging sign that she hadn’t fallen, even on the carpet. Simple jewelry, classy makeup and her signature vivid eye shadow along with a professional updo completed her look.

She stepped through the threshold of the tastefully appointed office, and the secretary at the front desk greeted her warmly. She introduced herself as Sabrina, and ushered her into Renfri’s office.

Yennefer closed the door behind her, it looked like a bomb had gone off. Piles of paper littered almost every surface, and the woman spun her chair to face her while she finished her phone call.

“I don’t give a rat’s ass about his emotional suffering, he’s petitioned for full custody of her kids. _Nail him to the wall_.” She disconnected the call and offered her hand to Yennefer.

“Renfri Creyden, nice to meet you Yennefer. Geralt says you’re looking for experience, and I’m looking for help. That work for you?” She cut right to the point, but her expression was kind.

“It does, thank you so much.” She answered enthusiastically.

“You can start by helping me with this disaster” she gestured to the sea of paper, “that’ll take us a week at least.”

She got up from her desk, her trim business suit and sassy personality a force to be reckoned with. “How you do you take your coffee Yennefer? You’re gonna need it.” She asked with a smirk.

\-----------

She texted him that she’d arrived and made her way to his apartment building slowly. Her first day at the law firm had been amazing. All the attorneys were female, and the dynamic in the office was one of empowerment. They didn’t treat her like some unfortunate housewife, but as someone with ideas and something valuable to contribute.

The only part of her not thrilled with her new role was her feet. They were absolutely killing in the stylish heels she’d chosen. She hobbled across the parking lot, and began the trek up to the third floor, grimacing with each step. High above her she heard a door, and she looked up the center of the staircase to see his head pop out, excited smile on his face. His expression fell when he saw her grimace.

“What’s wrong, are you okay?” He called down, concern evident in his tone.

“I’m fine, just slow, I’ll be right up!” She reassured, gripping the railing harder. She heard his footfalls as he jogged down to meet her, and his sharp eyes narrowed on the offending heels.

He scooped her into his arms as though she weighed nothing and she protested with a laugh. “Geralt I’m fine!”

He made easy work of the rest of the staircase and she couldn’t resist wrapping her arms around him, holding him tight. The way he made her feel was completely new to her, and she couldn’t get enough of him. Even at their best, she’d never felt the desperate need to simply be near Victor the way she felt it with Geralt.

He nudged the door open with his foot and deposited her on the soft carpet of his living room. She couldn’t hold back a moan as she slipped the heels off and sunk her stocking clad toes into the soft white fibers. She caught the hungry look he shot her, and she blushed.

His books were scattered across the coffee table, it looked like he had been studying, throw blanket tossed across the leather couch. The apartment was simple but clean, and she lamented how cozy and warm it felt as opposed to the prison she lived in.

He walked to the kitchen and ducked into the refrigerator, “Water? Beer?” he offered.

“God, a beer sounds great.” She sighed.

“Was it that bad?” He asked, opening two bottles and handing her one.

“It was, wonderful.” She took the chilled bottle and eased onto his couch. He sat next to her and took one of her poor feet on his lap, his strong hands massaging the red marks and aches away, one firm circle at a time.

“That feels phenomenal, thank you.” She murmured, violet eyes closing in bliss at his touch. She pulled the clip from her hair and it fell past her shoulders in soft waves.

“Everyone was so kind, and we got pretty in depth on a few of her longstanding cases. It’s fascinating, and Renfri has such an eye for legal strategy.” She sighed when he released her foot and paid the same attention to it’s mate.

She opened her eyes again, he was watching her, one side of his mouth curled into a slight smile. He moved to her ankle, then her calf. The base of her calf was horribly tight, and he pressed his thumb into the soft skin below her knee, and the muscle melted under his fingers.

“Oh” she breathed, “Where did you learn that?”

He glanced down at the books on the table. Of course, he would need to know how to treat all the muscles in one’s body to work with athletes and physical injuries.

“And they say you never end up using your degree.” She snarked, and he shook his head with a smile.

“She mentioned that your friend, Jaskier, is a bit of a… _boob_.” She cringed, waiting for his angry reaction.

Instead he laughed heartily, “He has that effect on women.”

“She also mentioned, that she would help me file, for divorce.”

His eyes widened and darted up from her calf. “Good for you, Yen.” His voice was heavy with pride.

She leaned forward, over her legs and across his to seal her lips to his. She pulled away, “Mmmm, I’ve been waiting to do that all day.”

“You’re not the only one.” He groaned, before guiding her back onto his lap and pressing his lips to hers. She straddled him as far as the tight skirt would allow, and he tangled his hands into her ebony locks.

They’d met at the diner twice since the first time only a few days ago, but he hadn’t pressured her for anything physical beyond cuddling in _their_ booth and the kisses neither could hold back. Today she felt free. She was filing for divorce, and pursuing her dream of going into law. She was on the way to becoming the woman she knew she was meant to be.

She opened her mouth wider for him, and he ran his tongue along her bottom lip before chasing her own. She sighed against him as he deepend the kiss, her hands sliding to his pectorals as one of his loosened from her scalp to angle her chin gently.

She was dizzy for him, her fingers searching the hard lines of his chest and up over his shoulders to tug at his shirt with a greedy moan. He broke from her lips, they were as wet and swollen as his own. He pulled off his shirt, and she took him in with a slow breath. She’d seen him fight shirtless but it was at a distance, and he was a machine in the ring, tuned to inflict damage. Here he was on display only for her, the rise and fall of his chest heavy because he wanted _her_.

She pressed her palms to his warm skin, his hands squeezing her trim waist affectionately before pulling the silk blouse from her skirt. He worked diligently on the row of tiny pearlized buttons, but she could tell with his quiet huff of frustration he would have preferred to rip it off of her. She soothed his hurry, leaving a trail of wet kisses across his rough jaw and down his neck.

She leaned back when he freed the last button, slid it down her arms, and she shivered as he traced up her soft belly to cup her breasts over her lacy white bra. “ _So perfect_ ” he praised with a ragged breath, thumbs drawing circles and coaxing her nipples to pebble through the lace.

She bit her lip to keep from moaning at the decadent sensation of his hands and his praise that sent warm sparks straight to her center. He reached behind her to unclasp her bra, and it sprung free faster than she could have undone it herself. Before she could overthink and worry about how many other bras he’d removed to acquire such dexterity, he covered a straining pink nipple with his wet mouth and a soft swear slipped past her lips.

His nimble fingers rolled and flicked her other breast in time with his eager tongue, and it was all she could do to bury her hand in his surprisingly soft hair and remember to breathe. He released her with a deliciously wet sound before blowing warm air against her sensitive skin, making her shoulders tremble. He pressed a chaste kiss to the nipple he’d yet to bathe, before suckling it reverently. Her back arched against him, forcing as much of her breast into his mouth as she could get, every delectable pull of his mouth contributing to the slick gathering between her legs.

Her hips began to move unconsciously, seeking friction, seeking him. Her breath came in hitched pants above him, she no longer had the mental capacity to worry about how wanton she sounded. His big hands traveled up the back of her thighs under her skirt, fingers sliding from nylon to bare skin as he gave the firm globes of her ass a squeeze. His lips released her breast and she bent to kiss him, fervent desire and heat between them.

He moved a hand from her backside, over her thigh, bunching the rest of her skirt up to her waist. She watched him from above, hands sliding over his shoulders and down his muscular back, her breasts feeling heavy in the wake of his lavish worship. He ran two fingers over her center, against her white lacy panties and groaned. “ _Fuck_ , you’re soaked.” His deep voice wavered.

She leaned to his ear, “Only for _you,_ ” she whispered. His hand left her rear and brought her lips back to his in a hard, possessive kiss. He pushed the lace to the side and slid his finger in her tight heat. She moaned low against his mouth and gasped out a soft “ _Oh_ ”, when he added another.

He stroked her slowly, curling his fingers and his thumb skimming her clit. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, her hips moving in time with his hand, soft pants tickling his neck.

Suddenly, it was too much for her, she thought she might pass out. She was accustomed to a few quivers of pleasure before Victor finished, _if_ she was lucky. She thought her heart was skipping beats, a panic attack maybe?

She pushed off his shoulder, “Geralt” she gasped, “too much, I can’t.” He stopped his movements immediately and eased his hand back. He searched her face, surprise mixed with concern on his own.

“I’m sorry, I’ve never felt, I just…” she trailed on, insecurity on her face. His expression changed, like he’d solved a puzzle.

“It feels good?” He asked, she nodded vehemently. “Trust me?” Another nod.

He eased his hand back against her, his other rubbing comforting circles against the small of her back. He murmured soft commands and encouragement in her ear, as she gripped his shoulders and gave control back to her body.

Her hips rocked against his hand, and her breaths came in shorter and shorter pants. His thumb circled her clit faster until she arched back off his shoulders and gave a sharp, surprised cry, dark hair tumbling down her bowed back and her violet irises rolling past her dark lashes. Her muscles clenched tight around his still moving fingers again and again, her frame shuddering against the warm hand on her back.

She went limp against him, the last jolts of pleasure coming as he eased his fingers from her wet heat. Her breathing slowed and she leaned back to see his salacious smirk. She shook her head, “I didn’t even know you had so many teeth, wolf.” His boxing moniker taking on a double meaning.

He laughed, “What did little violet riding hood expect from the big bad wolf?”

She groaned at his bad joke, but her eyes darkened when he began cleaning his hand of her slick with his tongue. She took his wet thumb into her own mouth and worked along side him and he froze, watching her tongue swirling and sucking him clean.

She kissed each of his knuckles, “These inflict so much damage, and yet so much pleasure…” she trailed off.

-Geralt-

He caught her bottom lip with his, and began nibbling her as he gripped her hips and stood from the couch. She wrapped her legs around his middle and pressed her bare breasts to his chest, suckling a hickey into his collarbone. He carried her to his bedroom, wondering how the hell she’d been married for years without knowing her body was capable of such rapture. The thought was _criminal_.

She pressed her teeth to his skin and he growled, setting her on the edge of his bed. She propped herself up on her elbows watching him as he removed her skirt and soaked panties. He rolled her nylons off, peppering kisses down her shapely thigh and calf, and repeated for her other leg. He’d laid in bed at night picturing the exact sight in front of him, but the vision was nothing compared to the real thing. Soft smile on her face, cheeks still flushed from her orgasm, she was a goddess.

His cock was bordering on painful in his jeans, but she reached to stop him from unzipping the fly. She perched on the edge of his midnight black bedding and unwrapped him like the first, last and only birthday gift she would ever get. He was already so far gone, when she wrapped her soft hand around him he couldn’t stop the slightly strangled noise that left his throat.

He gulped in a big breath when she knelt and bent to kiss his swollen flesh, and huffed it back out when she unexpectedly licked him base to tip.

“Yen, I won’t last.” He loathed to admit it, but all he wanted was to bury himself to the hilt in her tight heat until she screamed his name. She pressed a hot kiss to the base of him, his belly button, defined abs, and up to his waiting lips.

He kicked off the jeans around his ankles, and retrieved a wrapper from the nightstand.

“You don’t have to.” She stopped him.

At his curious expression, she elaborated. “I can’t have children. And I haven’t been with, _him_ , in at least a year.”

Again, _criminal_. Some of the fight left her eyes as she spoke. He tossed the plastic back into the drawer before framing her face in his hands. “He is a worthless excuse for a man, and you’ll be free of him before you know it.” _If it’s the last thing I do._ He didn’t voice the last part aloud, there had already been more talk of that idiot that he deserved.

She nodded, determination and then passion back on her face as she wrapped her arms around him and up his back, kissing, then licking a wet path over his nipple. She pulled him back down to the bed with her, his cock hot and heavy against her belly. He braced his arms on either side of her splayed curls, and nuzzled his rough cheek to her soft one.

“Make me yours?” She implored.

“ _God yes,_ sweetheart.” He graveled.

He reached to align their bodies and eased into her. He was bigger than most, and he ground his teeth in order to remain still and give her a chance to acclimate to his size. She lifted her thighs against his hips and he slid even deeper, his groan in sync with her gasp.

 _“Move, please_ ” she all but pleaded.

He withdrew and thrust home again. She was so _damn_ tight, he felt like he was sixteen again, wondering how much of her exquisite torture he could take. He set a brisk pace, one arm braced for leverage and the other running over her breasts as they heaved in time with his hips.

Her nails raked over his shoulder blades lightly, and her soft pants began to escalate into louder moans. He felt her start to tighten around him and he moved to brush his thumb over her clit in time with his thrusts. Her moans morphed into cries, and he wasn’t sure she was even conscious of it, but he certainly wasn’t going to shush her. He mumbled dirty phrases in her ear, spurring her cries even louder as she stroked both his ego and his cock.

Without warning she seized against him, hips bucking and muscles clenching rhythmically, pulling him deeper. For all the vocal fanfare, she climaxed with a silent scream, her nails carving jagged trails across his taunt back. He went with her on a harsh shout of her name and a few powerful thrusts, before his back locked up and he emptied himself in her with a shudder.

He dropped to the bed next to her and laid his arm across her middle, not willing to break contact yet. Her chest rose and fell under his arm as they both slowed their breathing, but she looked exhuasted. Before they could fall asleep at the foot of the big bed, he forced himself up and pulled back the sheets and blankets. He scooted her up next to him, and covered them with the warm bedding.

She kissed the bicep nearest to her face. “-’s only like seven o’clock, we didn’t have dinner.” She mumbled, still half asleep.

“Are you hungry? Do you want me to make something?” He asked.

“No, too tired.”

He smiled and she wrapped her arms around his chest. “Mmmm” he hummed against her, “You’re loud, I _like_ that.”

She cracked an eye open, looking appalled.

He smirked. “I will have to send my neighbors one of those baskets of fruit on sticks.”

“I was not! I have never been loud.” She argued.

She paused. “Oh my god, that was me. I was loud as _fuck._ ” She bemoaned, realization dawning on her face. She burrowed into his shoulder and pulled the sheet up over her head in the face of his smart-mouthed grin.

————————

-Two Months Later-

-Yennefer-

She unlocked the side door that lead into their kitchen, hot coffee in her hand and humming a tune that had played on the radio in her car on the way home. The streets were virtually abandoned at that hour, it was almost four am. She wanted nothing more than to stay curled around Geralt well into the morning, but Victor was due home at nine and she had to cook and clean before he arrived.

The past two months had been the best of her life. She’d found her stride at the office, was well respected and found fulfillment helping both the attorneys and their clients. Geralt was the best thing that had ever happened to her. She felt every single blow he took on the mats like it was her own, but afterward he’d let her kiss his cuts and bruises better. He was a selfless lover, terribly intelligent, and ever her greatest support. She didn’t know if all men were like Geralt, and she’d married the one rotten seed, but she was pretty sure she’d found a diamond in the rough when it came to him.

She planned to rush through all the tasks Victor presumed she was doing last night. She thought back, instead of four glorious orgasms and falling asleep in his arms, she was supposed to have been cleaning out the fridge and scrubbing the floors. Well, she _did_ spend some time on her hands and knees. She smirked to herself.

She turned the light on, set down her purse and coffee. She turned around, and nearly had a heart attack. Victor was sitting on one of the kitchen bar stools, waiting for her in the dark.

“Victor! Oh my god, you scared the shit out of me!” Her heart raced. He watched her without a word.

“I couldn’t sleep, I ran out for coffee, thought I would just start the day early.” She faked a warm smile.

He finally slid off the stool and stood face to face with her. “That’s what you’re going with. You couldn’t _sleep.”_

“I – “, he cut her off with a backhand to the face.

Her head turned with his hand, curls airborne. He’d never hit her before. A small shove or he’d toss something to her nastily, but he’d never actually laid on hand on her. Blood ran over her teeth from the new split in her upper lip.

“ _Who_ is the bastard Yennefer?” He all but snarled.

“No one. There’s no one.” She croaked.

“Give me your phone. _Now_.”

She pretended to rustle around in her purse for it, but quickly keyed the buttons for a factory reset. She handed it to him, reset screen loading. He would be pissed, but he’d never find Geralt’s name or number, or anything else that would give him away.

She honestly wasn’t sure what _this_ Victor was capable of. Hitting was new, and she didn’t want to find out what he’d try to do to Geralt. Victor would be no match in a fight, but that wouldn’t stop him from getting a gun if he really wanted to. She would protect him from this mess. Her mess.

He took one look at the loading screen, and he knew what she’d done. He set the phone on the counter with the utmost care.

“Whore.” He accused.

“Asshole.” She spat back.

He jerked to grab her by the hair and she spun to gouge him in the diaphragm with her elbow. She knew from watching the Geralt and the others fight that the diaphragm bought you some time. Wind knocked out of him, she sprinted up the stairs, phone left behind on the counter next to him. He was at the base of the stairs as soon as she reached the top.

She flew into the master bath, slammed and locked the door shut behind her. She would wait him out, he’d cool down eventually.

\----------

By early afternoon, she hobbled down the carpeted stairs, hands tracing the wall for support. The remnants of the master bathroom door jam were in splinters on the tile floor. It had held for about ten whole minutes.

He’d gone to work an hour before and left her blank phone untouched on the counter from the prior night. She set up the install software, and texts from Geralt flooded in – she’d never messaged him that she was home safe and he had been beside himself with worry.

Fat tears ran down her bruised cheekbone. Her hands shook. She thought about sending him one last text message, but there was absolutely nothing she could say that he would believe and not try to come after her. Victor would be following her every move, and there was no way Geralt would leave her alone with him if he knew where to find her. He had a wonderful life planned out ahead of him, and she wasn’t going to drag him down with her. None of his goals could be achieved from behind bars on assault charges.

She lobbed the phone against the wall, plastic pieces and glass spraying wide.

\------

-Geralt-

“I’m sure she’s fine Geralt.” Jaskier soothed. “Phones break, people forget to respond to texts, it happens.”

“Not with _her_ it doesn’t happen.” He grumbled.

He was the favorite in the next fight, and he was distracted as hell.

“You’ve been seeing her for months and I’ve yet to meet her. How great can she possibly be, man?” Jaskier tried.

He hadn’t been parading her around town, she was still technically married, and it would hurt her petition for divorce if the judge knew they were already seeing each other.

“You will meet her Jask, in time.” He sighed. God he hoped it was just her phone that was the issue.

They walked from the dressing room into the main event area. They were in attendance, in their normal seats – he could make out her dark hair, warm scarf still wrapped around her neck. _Thank god_ she was aright. He tossed his shirt to Jaskier, and stretched his arms and shoulders out. 

The starting whistle blew for his match, and he assessed his adversary. They were essentially evenly matched, he’d seen this guy fight a few weeks before. He landed a succession of jabs to the man’s chest, and took and uppercut to the jaw for his trouble.

They danced around each other, feigning and lunging. When they’d rotated around and he was facing the bleachers, he stole a glance up at her. The scarf had fallen, and a nasty black bruise had bloomed across her cheekbone. Her swollen lip was clearly split open, and she looked past him, purposefully not meeting his glance. _Son of a bitch._

“Geralt! _Move_!” Jaskier screamed.

It was the last thing he heard before everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Four chapters, I’m forcing myself to stick to four. I know, I know, my poor Yen is always getting the worst of it. *sigh* But she always gets even.


	3. Higher Stakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yennefer does what she thinks is best for everyone but herself, and both of their lives change forever.

-Geralt- 

He had come to on the mats, Jaskier’s panicked face filling his vision. He pushed past him to sit up, but their seats were empty. He swore. 

“Come on man, let’s get you to the ER.” The crowd had thinned significantly. 

“No, I’m alright.” He stood slowly. 

“What happened? You spaced out.” Jaskier was genuinely concerned, Geralt had never been knocked unconscious since they’d started. He drank from the bottle of water Jaskier offered him, and they sat on the first row of now empty bleachers. 

“Yennefer.” 

“This chick!” He shook his head disapprovingly. “I never thought you’d be wrapped up female games. Drop her man, she’s a distraction."

“It’s not a game. She’s married.” He winced and pressed two fingers to his aching temple. 

“All the more reason -“

“He hit her.”

“Ah, Fuck.” Jaskier muttered.

———

He simply couldn’t find her.

They hadn’t been to a single fight since his ill-fated knock out. Calls and text messages were not returned, and her number was now out of service. 

Geralt walked into Renfri’s office the two days later, desperate to see if Yennefer was at work or if they had heard from her. 

“Hi. Do you have an appointment?” The pretty blonde at the front desk asked. She looked up from her computer, ”Geralt?”

He was taken aback, he’d never met her. His brow furrowed.

“Yennefer told me about you. I’m Sabrina, we took our lunch breaks together.” She smiled. “She’s only been gone three days and I miss her already!”

 _“Gone?_ ” He croaked. 

“She called Renfri a few days ago, her um…he got another job and they moved to Tennessee.” 

“Tennesee.” He murmured. He had no way of getting in touch with her. He would never see her again. The pit of his stomach turned.

“She didn’t sound right on the phone, Ger.” Renfri spoke from the doorway of her office. He followed her inside, Yennefer’s desk just as she’d left it in the corner of the room. Her pale yellow sweater still hanging from the back of the chair, the flowers he’d given her last week just starting to wilt. 

“There’s no address. I already pulled the divorce filing. We didn’t need to have it completed for another week or so, she left it blank.” She sipped her coffee. “She’s in trouble, isn’t she?”

He bent his head into his hands. 

\------

-Four Weeks Later-

-Yennefer-

She couldn’t ignore the signs any longer, pretend and pray it wasn’t happening. 

She leaned closer over the porcelain bowl, surrendering the lite lunch she had eaten. Over and over she heaved, the smell of the beef she’d been sautéing taunting her with the truth. Her stomach rolled one last time, before she flushed the toilet and leaned back against the cool tile wall, a towel to her mouth. 

When she and Victor were first married and hadn’t gotten pregnant, they went for fertility testing and found out she was unable to conceive. She felt like such an idiot, _he_ was the one who had answered the phone when they called with the results. The bastard had lied, and watched her mourn the loss of ever having a baby of her own. As a result, she’d unknowingly lied to Geralt, and she was certain she was pregnant. 

There was absolutely no way she’d allow a child anywhere near her husband. He hadn’t touched her since he caught her coming home early in the morning, and they had established a tentative détente. He moved his girlfriend right into the house, and he left her the hell alone so long as she continued to cook, clean, and cater to his new princess’s whims. 

He didn’t relinquish control over her however, and he made no secret of the GPS he’d installed on her car and the app she knew was on her new phone. She was dying to know what he’d done with the money from her parent’s estate, now more than ever. She needed to figure out how to get her assets back out of his name, so she could get out on her own before he figured out she was pregnant and made some ridiculous claim that the baby was his. As it was, her breasts were tender and the waistband on her pants tight.

Renfri and the other attorneys at the firm would help her, but she didn’t have the money to retain them. And Geralt, God, the image of him sprawled out on that bloody mat unconscious filled her mind every night when she closed her eyes. He would be so disappointed in her, betrayed. He would support her and the baby, she had no doubt, but Victor wouldn’t let her (and her money) go without playing dirty. She would figure something out, and in the meantime lay low and stay out of Victor’s way. 

The odor of beef again met her nose and she cringed. _Burning_ beef. “Fuck.” She climbed off the floor and hustled back into the kitchen, fingers pinching her nose shut. 

———

She stood in the health care isle at Whole Foods, staring at ten different kinds of prenatal vitamins.  
Did she need organic? Gummies? She must have looked overwhelmed, comparing the labels on three different bottles at once, when a middle aged woman took pity on her and came close. 

“You want one with folic acid, honey.” She offered. “It’s good for your red blood cells, it helps the baby’s development.” 

Yennefer took the bottle she pointed to and thanked her. 

“This must be your first?” She chatted on.

-Geralt-

He had the salsa Jaskier wanted, and turned into the next isle to grab a pack of gauze to restock their ‘fight bag’. He scanned the shelves; bandaids, Aspirin, _Yennefer_. 

He had been searching for her for weeks, and she stood ten feet from him, her back turned. She looked a little thin, but otherwise whole, no bruises marked the parts of her he could see. His mind reeled, and he finally began processing what she was saying as the woman talked to her. 

_First baby. Epidural. Get the epidural honey._ A bottle labeled ‘prenatal’ in her hand.

No. _Please_ no. 

His grip on the jar tightened. Memories of the expression on his father’s face when he spoke of Geralt’s mother flashed to the forefront of his mind. The nights when he had thought young Geralt was asleep and he cried over old photos and letters. She had said she couldn’t have children, what -

“Geralt, do you want the scoop tortilla chips or the triangles?” Jaskier had ducked into the isle. 

She jolted at the mention of his name, and turned to face him, a shaken expression on her features. 

He was still reeling, he couldn’t find the words. She shoved the pills back on the shelf and fled. 

“The scoops? You’re going to say the scoops, why did I even ask. Wait. Was that…?” Jaskier trialed off, confused look on his face. 

“Fuck.” Geralt hissed. He shoved the jar of salsa into Jaskier’s already full hands and took off in the direction she’d run. 

He didn’t see her at the end of the isles, not in produce, he ran past each register line until he saw a flash of dark hair dart out the far doors to the parking lot. 

“Yen!” He shouted, she was fumbling with her purse for the keys. “ _Yen_.” He jogged up behind her, and she gave up the fight with her bag, turning to face him. He reached out to trace her cheekbone, the black bruise long faded and her lip healed. 

“I’m sorry.” She apologized, her voice soft. 

“Sorry for what?” He had a hundred questions for her, but expecting her to apologize wasn’t one of them.

“That I disappeared. He found out about us, and I couldn’t risk him finding out who you were and coming after you. Or that you might get yourself in trouble trying to help me.”

He made to argue but she interrupted, “They don’t hire felons to work at universities or with kids, Geralt. There was too much at stake. I couldn’t do that to you.” 

He had a rebuttal for every one of her points, but he wasn’t going to stand in the parking lot of a grocery store and argue with her. Not yet at least. 

“And the stakes are…higher…now?” His eyes drifted to her midsection.

She swallowed hard, her eyes filling with unshed tears. “I’m so sorry about that too. I -“

He bent and wrapped his arms around her, and she broke down against his neck. 

“I didn’t know, he lied to me. I swear, I didn’t know.” She sniffled.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright, everything is going to be alright.” He rubbed circles against her back. 

“I have an appointment tomorrow, to see about a shelter.” 

He pulled back to search her face, confused. 

“A women’s shelter.” She whispered it so quietly he could barely hear her. “I swear, he is not going to hurt the baby.” 

He blew out a shuddered breath. “No, he is not. You’re right about that one.” He wiped the tear trails from her cheeks and pressed a kiss to her forehead. 

“Can we go somewhere and talk?” He suggested. He’d forgotten about Jaskier, who was still in the store. 

“I can’t. He has GPS on the car and my phone, if I deviate from what I’m supposed to be doing he’s going to be angry.” 

He ground his teeth, and the muscle in his jaw flexed. This whole business of them both catering to _his_ whims, was over. 

“Yennefer, let’s end this right now. Let’s go get your stuff and be done with him. I know you’re scared, and rightfully so, but I’ve just gone weeks wondering if you were alright. Wondering if you were even, alive.” He cleared his throat. “I’m not afraid of him, and if he takes one step in the direction of you, or this baby, he’s going to learn the hard way.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt.” She insisted. She was so damn stubborn, maybe the only person he knew that was more-so than himself. She was a fighter, and he thanked god for that. 

“The only way he can hurt me, is to hurt you. And we’re not going to let that happen _ever again_.”

———  
-Yennefer-

She drove to the house for what she hoped was the last time. He sat in the passenger seat, their hands intertwined, his thumb tracing patterns on the back of her hand. His friend Jaskier followed in Geralt’s truck. She was surprised when he’d hopped in with her, but it made sense, he probably thought she might disappear again. 

Both vehicles pulled up to the house, the driveway was empty as she expected. 

“I’ve only got about an hour before they get home, but there isn’t much to gather, it won’t take long.”

“They?” Jaskier piped up, before Geralt could shoot him a look.

She didn’t mind, this poor man was already going to find out all her dirty laundry, why be coy. “After he found out I was spending time with someone else, he just outright moved his girlfriend right in. I’ve been catering to her highnesses wishes in the home my father’s life insurance paid for.”

For once, the talkative man was quiet, his mouth open. She turned the key and pushed the kitchen door open. Both men followed her in tentatively. 

“Ok let me just grab a couple boxes, the clothes in that pile there are mine, the shoes, and let me grab my things from the bathroom.”

“You’ve been sleeping on the couch?” Geralt questioned. She could tell he fought to keep his tone neutral. 

“She made the spare room her closet.” She commented before disappearing into the bathroom. She returned with a small case of toiletries, and a photo of her family from when she was in high school. 

Geralt handed Jaskier the box of clothes and sent him out to the truck. “Are you sure this is it for now? We can get the house and the car back legally, but there’s no telling what condition he’ll leave the place in.” He warned.

She placed her phone on the counter, it had his GPS app and nothing she cared about keeping on it. 

“I’m sure, I’d just as soon burn it.” She shuddered. 

He slung the bag on his shoulder and took her hand, “This is the right thing, I promise.” 

———

-Geralt-

He pushed the clothes in his closet to the side, making room on the rod for hers. Jaskier busied himself rooting around in Geralt’s kitchen while they assimilated her things in with his. 

“I’m so sorry about this.” She knelt and unpacked her shoes neatly into the space he’d made on the floor. 

He grunted softly, “Stop apologizing. I would have asked you to move in before if I thought you would have said yes.”

He sat next to her and pushed his skates farther back, then his big boots. “I love you, you know that, right?”

She froze, her eyes widened and searched his for any sign of hesitation. He knew she would find none. If he didn’t realize it months ago, he definitely did while she was missing from his life. The only other time he’d slept so poorly and been so depressed had been when his father passed.

Her hand rested on his check, before she leaned up to brush a kiss against his lips. She wrapped herself tight around him, “I love you, so much” on a whisper against his ear. He eased her the rest of the way into his lap, strong arms holding her close. 

He slid his warm hand to rest against the barely there, gentle swell of her stomach. 

“I saw the look on your face, in the store. I would have expected you to be the one to run first.” She spoke softly, still tucked against his shoulder.

“I’m scared.” He admitted.

She thought for a few seconds before pulling back, “Your mother.” He gave a slight nod. 

He knew the odds of her having complications with the baby were low, but they were low when he was born too. He wouldn’t be able to put those fears aside until her pregnancy was over and she was hale and healthy. 

“When was the last time you ate?” He asked, his mind jumping. 

“No fussing over me Geralt. I had breakfast.”

He looked at the clock by the bed. “It’s _four_. Let’s go.” She scrunched up her nose in defiance, but they stood headed to the kitchen anyway. 

Just as they walked into the kitchen, Jaskier opened the microwave, “Dibs on your Chinese food from yesterday bro, I’ve never had their beef and broccoli before.”

The smell of the food hit her and she slapped her hand over her mouth and fled past Geralt to the bathroom. He padded in after her, unbothered by the theatrics of her retching. He knelt next to her and rubbed her back, his other hand holding her hair. 

When she’d given her last heave, he handed her a cool washcloth and let her sink back against him. She hoped the damn nausea would quit sooner rather than later, but it was a hell of a lot easier to handle with his help. 

Jaskier crept to the open door and saw her in Geralt’s lap on the floor, he looked ashamed. “I’m sorry I made you ralph your guts out.”

She countered, unperturbed by his vivid description, “I’m sorry I ralphed my guts out while you were eating.” 

“Can I, help?” He tried. 

“A glass of water would be heaven.” She smiled. 

“Cold? Really cold? Iced? Lukewarm? Lemon? - You know what, I’ll just grab one of each.” He disappeared before she could say anything. 

“He worries.” Geralt shrugged in response to her raised eyebrow. 

They climbed off the floor and he grabbed her a washcloth to wash her face. She stood at the vanity, pale skin and tired eyes looking back. It was only temporary. He laced his arms around her from behind, nuzzling a kiss on her cheek.

Jaskier returned with six different water glasses. Geralt rolled his eyes. She chose “really cold” with “lemon”. The cool water soothed her throat. 

“Thank you Jaskier. Renfri never mentioned you were so kind and helpful.” She wore an innocent expression, but the thinly veiled prod was obvious.

He gave a nervous laugh. “Renfri is one lady who never fully appreciated my sophisticated level of suave. In fact, it’s about to be appreciated elsewhere. Geralt - we’ve got that final next week, I have a major study sesh planned. Call me if you want in.” 

“You don’t have to go!” Yennefer protested. 

He had already backed into the hallway, “Nice you meet you Yennefer!” The front door opened, “Peace man!” to Geralt, and he was gone. 

She turned to him, “There’s something there, she secretly wants him too.” Her eyes blazed with determination. 

Something told him his best friend was about to hate his life. 

———

-Yennefer-

She laid cuddled in Geralt’s arms, he in boxers and she in one of his oversized UW t-shirts and sweatpants. She was so used to sleeping alone and bundling up to keep warm in the cold house, that she had forgotten what it was like to sleep next to someone. Geralt in particular, ran hot, he was like a furnace at night.

She sighed and sat up, pushing the covers back. “You were right, I don’t need any of it.” His smirk changed to a desire laden stare as he watched her toss the baggy shirt to the floor and shimmy out of his sweat pants. 

He traced his hand up her arm, and back down her side, brushing the side of her breast as he went. She gasped at the contact. “Hurts?” He asked, unsure. 

“They’re tender, but it doesn’t hurt, it feels good. You always feel good.” She leaned to kiss him, and he sat up to meet her half way. He framed her delicate face with his hands, guiding their hungry lips against each other. 

“I missed you - so much.” She gasped between kisses, earning a hum of agreement from deep in his throat. She leaned against him, her curves pressed to his taunt chest. She ran her hands over his muscled arms, his sculpted back and shoulders, everywhere she could reach. She never wanted to be away from him again, the past weeks had been agony. 

She moaned low as his tongue pressed past her swollen lips to rediscover the recesses of her mouth. She slid her leg over his, and slipped her hand under the waistband of his boxers to stroke him. 

He broke their kiss with a groan, and began leaving wet kisses and licks under her jaw and down her neck as she tilted her head to give him better access. She ground her hips against his thigh, coating him in her slick while she worked her hand around him with diligence.

He bent to take her breast in his mouth, his licks and suckles mindful of her words. His free hand cupped it’s neglected twin and he danced his thumb over her pert nipple. Lusty words and whispers of encouragement trailed from her lips until she couldn’t take any more. 

She pulled her hand from his cock and he couldn’t hold back a grunt of disappointment. She tugged on the waistband of his boxers and he leaned to help her slide them off. “Are you sure, we don’t have to.” He was going to be a nervous papa, she thought to herself with a smile. 

“Yes, we do, or else I might explode.” She smiled sweetly before flinging the clothing off his feet and kissing her way back up to him. She kissed his calf, the inside of his knee, and the base of his impressive cock before circling back to lick his thigh clean of her. He watched her every move with reclined on his elbows, pupils blown wide, as she licked and nipped across his abdominals and pectorals. 

He kissed her adventuring lips before helping her sink down on him slowly. They both groaned when she took the last of him, her head bowed forward, hands braced against his chest. She closed her eyes, nothing compared to the feel of the way he stretched her so wonderfully. Fuck, he was perfect for her and it had been so long. 

“So beautiful” he murmured, running his hands up her sides and over her breasts before she began to move above him. He steadied her pace with his hands on her hips and let her ride him, her breasts and raven curls bouncing in time with her panted breaths. 

The motion of her hips became more sporadic as she chased her pleasure, soft cries pouring from her lips when he changed the angle of his hips and found a particularly wonderful spot deep inside her. She was close, desperate for the sweet release he had taught her she could find.

She tugged at one of the big hands clutching her hip, and dragged his palm down between her legs. He circled her clit once, twice, and their combined fingers brushed against his slicked cock as he rocked up into her. His heavy groan echoed across the room and bright light burst in front of her eyes. She dug her fingers into his chest, his hand still pinned and working on her clit. Her hips rolled against him in hard jerks and her shoulders quaked as bliss spiraled up through her body. 

She slumped against him, bones like jello, chest heaving as though she’d run a marathon. 

“Fuck baby, that was so goddamn hot.” His voice was almost pained. He was still hard in her, doling out slow, shallow thrusts as she recovered.

“Geralt” she whispered, her head tucked under his chest. 

He froze. “What’s wrong, did -“ 

She pressed her fingers over his lips. “Fuck me proper, won’t you?”

His chest deflated with a ragged breath before he flipped her over and silenced her laugh with his hungry mouth. 

———  
-Geralt-

He sat next to Yennefer in the waiting room, informational posters of female reproductive systems littering the walls around him. A pair of young parents sat across from them, they couldn’t have been over sixteen years old. He was covered in piercings and wore ratty clothes, and the girl wore an extremely low cut top over her very pregnant belly. They bickered, swearing at each other. 

He could fell a three hundred pound boxer, he could handle this. She would be fine. There were almost thirty years worth of medical advances since his birth, and he would simply have to have faith in God and the doctors that she would be alright. He longed to talk with his father, he would know what to say to calm his anxiety. 

A nurse cracked open the door and blessedly called them in. She had offered to go alone, she’d even suggested he drop her off if he was uncomfortable. He was adamant, he wouldn’t leave her to go through it alone, and he wouldn’t miss information about their baby. 

They were settled in an exam room, Yennefer changed into a less than luxurious cotton gown. Her doctor came in, an older man, who shook Geralt’s hand before easing her feet into the stirrups and apologizing for her discomfort. 

“Cold hands and pressure, Yennefer.” He warned. 

She winced before he withdrew. Geralt slid his chair closer and took her hand. The doctor flipped on the monitor above his computer, and slid the wand across the subtle rise of her belly in a swipe of gel. 

“Here we go kids, there’s your little one. Everything looks perfect.” He pointed to a few areas on the monitor, before adjusting the audio. The fast pitter patter of a heartbeat filled the small room. Tears slid down her cheeks. His throat tightened with pride and love as he pressed a warm kiss to her lips. 

\------

The apartment door slammed shut and they fell to their knees on the carpet, clamoring closer. They kissed desperately, he craved her tender touch, and she was insatiable for him. The doctor had given them reassurance that they were fine to carry on in the bedroom, and they couldn’t keep their hands off each other the entire ride home. 

He ran his hands up underneath the back of her light sweater, pinching the clasp of her bra. A groan rattled his chest as she worked the fly of his jeans frantically, his warm hands found their home cradling her breasts.

His fingers flicked and teased her sensitive nipples, while his tongue mirrored the action against hers. She freed his impressive erection, and used both hands to slide slow, teasing strokes over his length. She reached down the waistband of her soft leggings, and her hand returned coated in her slick, his muttered curse breaking through their kiss as she ran it over his straining cock. 

She pumped both hands over him confidently, and his hands on her breasts lost their practiced rhythm, landing instead on her shapely rear. His head lolled against her shoulder, and the muscles in his thighs flexed as his hips followed her hands like they alone held salvation. He mumbled something intelligible into her neck and she whispered praise in response. She cooed about how he had the most magnificent cock and how she wished he would bury it inside her and never pull out. 

Her hands sped up to meet the demands of his hips, and just before he began to lose it she took him into her mouth. The knowledge that she was tasting herself on him, and the hot bliss of her mouth propelled him over the edge. She took him deep and swallowed everything he gave, a guttural roar on his lips. 

Somehow she had distracted him completely and maneuvered her way into bringing him to orgasm, both of them fully clothed, and before she’d had any for herself. She smirked up at him with a ‘cat who’d gotten the cream’ grin, and she _had_ the little minx. 

Before she had a chance to lord it over him, he bent to embrace her, but instead grabbed her ass and hauled her over the few feet to the coffee table. It’s shallow height was perfect for him on his hands and knees, and he coaxed her to lay back on the dark wood finish, peeling down her leggings and soaked panties. He spread her knees and looped them over his shoulders, her glistening center opening for him like the juiciest of peaches. 

He nuzzled his rough jaw against the tender skin of her inner thigh, before nudging between her folds and licking broad strokes into her core. She gave up trying to watch him and surrendered her body, her legs jerking when his nose bumped her clit. She moaned filthily when he replaced his tongue with two long fingers, then three, rocking and curling them high inside her. He went to work on her clit in earnest, lips and tongue working in tandem. 

She started rocking harder against him, and leaned to tangle her hand in his hair. She dragged him as close as she could and his answering grunt was almost drowned out by her shout. She keened and gripped the edge of the table, his mouth suddenly flooded with her. He pushed past his surprise and sucked and licked her clean as she writhed and spasmed, his name and God’s reverberating off the walls. 

She collapsed back against the table, shivering with aftershocks. He leaned his head against her thigh, catching his breath. 

“What” she breathed, “was that?”

He grinned, wet from the bridge of his nose to the underside of his chin. “That was me getting even with you sweetheart.”


	4. So am I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did we think he was going to let her just leave? Yen and Geralt face their demons.

-Three months later-

-Geralt-

He sat in his living room, warm summer air flowing in through the open windows. His head was bent low over his laptop, until suddenly he threw a fist in the air above him with a shout, “Yes!”. His bid on the land in Redmond had gone through, the landowner had accepted his offer and he could sign the paperwork at the bank any time that week. 

The property was set back off the road, but it had a killer view of the Seattle skyline. The sketches and blueprints for the house were hidden behind his desk – he was planning to surprise her. Next week he wanted to drive Yen up through the hills to the property, and tell her it was theirs over a picnic. 

Jaskier had assured him food should be involved when he told her. As the doctor had predicted, her stomach settled and instead of throwing up at the drop of a hat, she was ravenous. The only one who could rival her appetite for the most obscure and sometimes bizarre food combinations was Jaskier. Just the prior night, he’d watched from the kitchen as they dove into ice cream sundaes covered in Fritos and peaches. 

His friend was determined to go head to head with her, whatever she could eat, he would consume more of. She would pick at yogurt, fruits and vegetables during the day, but it was _on_ when Jaskier came over. He would have been jealous of their warped relationship, but instead he found them endearing. 

He could hear Jaskier’s car doors through the open window, and he peered down to the parking lot, one corner of his mouth quirked into a smile. Their voices carried. 

“I don’t care what you say about these fabled antioxidants or mystery herbs, dark chocolate is just gross.” Jaskier whined. He opened the trunk and began loading his arms with grocery bags. 

“It has a lovely, rich flavor. It’s dark and exotic.” She joined him and took a bag.

“You _would_ like the dark and mysterious candy. Just classic, plain old milk chocolate, you get what you came for, no surprises.” He closed the trunk with his elbow and tried to take the bag she held. 

“It’s syrup, you’ll barely be able to tell over all the ice cream. Live a little!” Wordlessly they argued over her bag, and by the end she walked away with two. Jaskier would never win with her. He shook his head and walked down to meet them on the stairs and help carry. 

“Geralt! Praise 8lb 6oz baby Jesus, these are heavy as hell!” 

He walked past Jaskier to take the two bags from her and press a kiss to her lips.

“Of course, cater to the beautiful one. I’ll be sending you the bill for my hernia surgery.” He pouted, his steps dramatically labored. As though he hadn’t just tried to wrestle the other two bags from her as well. 

“You are beautiful Jaskier.” She chimed. “I know Renfri thinks so too…” 

Geralt groaned.

“Don’t bring up that she-devil, woman! Or I’ll be forced to drop the bag with the liquid tar you call dark chocolate syrup.” 

“You wouldn’t dare.” She challenged under her breath. Both men shuddered. 

\------  
-The Next Day-

He made disgusted face in the mirror as he tightened his checkered tie. He couldn’t stand the things, but he was heading to the bank to sign the papers for the five acres and have a copy of the blueprints approved for the house. He hoped she wouldn’t be upset that he had gone forward with the intent to surprise her, but he thought about the big windows on the eastern exposure that would bring the sunrise into their bedroom. The nursery adjacent to their room, and the big porch would convince her, he was sure. 

She had gone back to work with Renfri and the attorneys at her firm, who had been thrilled to see her return. The animated stories she told him at night about the laughs the women shared and their legal prowess showed that she still harbored passion for the work. After the baby was born they would have to get her enrolled in classes. It would be a stretch financially to build, put her through school and pay for daycare even if they both worked full time, but they would figure it out. He wasn’t sure she’d let him fight solely so she could study, but they could talk about it. 

Jaskier would be arriving any minute, he had offered to give Geralt a ride to the bank since Yennefer had taken his truck to Bellevue. They planned to meet Vesemir afterword to discuss getting Jaskier a position at the college as well, since they’d both graduated. The positions at the university offered great pay, full benefits and flexible hours. He was grateful, building a house with a baby on the way wasn’t going to be cheap. 

She would be getting a settlement from the divorce, as soon as Renfri could wrestle Yennefer’s money from Victor’s twisted hands. He would be getting served the papers any day now, and Geralt longed to see the bastard’s face when he realized he was shit out of luck and there was little he could do about it. Renfri’s team had done all the work ahead of the filing, knowing what a manipulative ass he was, and the way she structured it, Yennefer should be a free woman in as little as two weeks. A part of him wished he could have put his fist through the man’s face, but it would have only made things harder. 

A horn honked outside and his phone vibrated, a text from Jaskier. “Get in loser, we’re going to buy a house.”  
He rolled his eyes and grabbed his bag. 

\------  
-Yennefer-

“Are you sure you won’t come if Jaskier is there?” Yennefer sipped tea from one of Renfri’s horribly expensive cups. She bent over the edge of the table, up to her elbows in a thick legal notice. She absentmindedly rubbed her lower back and grimaced. 

“I’ll give you my regrets right now if that swine is in attendance. Yennefer, you’re going to cripple yourself over there and I’ll have a wild man at my door. Sit in my chair, it’s got lumbar support.” She stood and swapped the papers they were working on and ushered her into her richly padded leather chair. Yennefer felt a pang of guilt, she could only imagine the panicked Geralt that had showed up at Renfri’s door looking for her months ago. 

“What’s the vegetable this week?” She asked. 

Yennefer looked confused. “The vegetable currently breaking your back.” She smiled .

“Oh, 28 weeks.” She flipped open her phone. “Apparently the baby is the size of an eggplant.” Yennefer rolled her eyes. “I’ve seen tiny eggplants and big ones, it hardly helps to determine the size of anything.”

Renfri laughed. “Judging by the size of your eggplant’s father, I’d bet he or she’s on the larger end of the spectrum.”

Yennefer paled and Renfri laughed harder. 

She switched tactics. “If I make my spinach dip? Surely, you can tolerate him for one evening of dinner and games for that. And the cheesecake brownies. You’ll have to fight him for them, but I’ll make two pans.” She tried.

“Why must you torment me with brownies from the gods in order to push us together. What’s your play here Yennefer?” She crossed her arms and leaned back, suspicious look on her face. 

“I push because I think your breakup was based on a misunderstanding. He misses you, even though he would never admit it, and you deserve some nonsense in your life. He’s a good man, and it’s only dinner.” 

“What does he say about me coming to the dinner?” Renfri softened her stance. 

“Oh, we’re not fucking telling him. I want him to show up.” She smirked. 

\------

-Vilgefortz/Victor-

He sat parked in the far reaches of the parking lot, the petition for divorce in the empty seat next to him. 

If she thought she was just going to waltz out of his life and take everything he had with her, the little whore had another thing coming. He already had his lawyer review the documents, and their claim was just shy of iron clad. This pack of female lawyers was good, but their legal tricks wouldn’t matter if he took care of the problem himself. 

He took a guess that she’d go back to work at the place, and it paid off, because there was _the problem_ now, walking out with some blond girl. She was oblivious, chatting with the woman and he sat parked under a few trees in _her_ car. The women separated and she walked toward a pickup truck parked only a few cars from him. He slouched in the seat, until she tossed the book and paperwork she’d been carrying in the seat and turned to walk to the driver’s side.

 _Holy fuck_. She wore a light sundress in the summer heat that he didn’t recognize, but she was pregnant, plain as day. She pulled the truck out and he started the car, pulling out to follow her. This just got a lot more interesting, he thought.

\------

-Yennefer-

Geralt had an appointment and he was meeting up with Vesemir that afternoon so she had decided to take the extra time and make a new recipe she’d found. She really did enjoy cooking, and since it was no longer for a tyrant, she found fun in it again. It helped that they were always hungry, Jaskier was a bottomless pit – where he put it she would never know. Since her morning sickness had faded, she had embraced food again with vigor – this baby had a hell of a sweet tooth. And Geralt was a big guy, and always active between boxing, skating and the gym. 

He promised to teach her to skate once the baby was born and she couldn’t wait, she had forced him to watch the _Cutting Edge_ three times already. She set her phone on the counter, soft music filling the room. She set a pot to boil for pasta, and worked on trimming pork chops on his big cutting board. The baby fluttered against her. 

“Is that a yay or nay vote for pork chops, honey?” She spoke out loud. A stronger kick. “That’s a yay. Papa likes pork chops, makes sense that you would too.” She washed her hands and rubbed her belly at the source of the kick. “Tomorrow you get to be on tv, love. We’ll get to find out if you’re a little lad or lass.” 

Voices floated in from outside and she startled, reaching to pause the music. _It couldn’t be._

She ran to the window and searched the parking lot. There was a Subaru that looked a hell of a lot like her old one, but it was a different plate. She was paranoid, it wasn’t his voice she heard. She checked that the door was locked and grabbed her phone anyway. Geralt was busy and she didn’t want to bother him just because she was spazzing, but she tried Jaskier, figuring he was probably at home. 

He answered, “City morgue, you kill ‘em we chill ‘em.” 

“Jask? Are you busy?” She asked, too shaken to address his bad dad joke. 

“Yennefer.” Victor deadpanned through the apartment door. 

She froze, her heart felt like it leapt into her throat. 

“Yennefer? What’s wrong, you sound upset.” Jaskier questioned. 

“Oh _God_ , Jaskier, he’s here. He found-” 

“YENNEFER.” He taunted louder this time, and pounded against the door. 

“Call Geralt,” she swallowed hard, “Can you call –“

He pounded again, the doorknob rattling. She tossed the phone onto Geralt’s desk and tried to push it toward the door. He would be busting through it if she didn’t try something. She got it moving towards the door slowly, Geralt’s papers sliding to the floor in a heap. 

————

-Geralt-

He, Jaskier and Vesemir sat in a tavern around the corner from Geralt’s apartment. They were celebrating their graduation from grad school, and Geralt’s good news from the bank. He was a homeowner, well a landowner, soon to be homeowner. 

He took a pull from the frosted bottle, it felt good to have those accomplishments under his belt. His life was worlds different than it had been even last year. He was done with school, potentially done with the underground scene, buying land and expecting baby with a wonderful woman. Vesemir gave him a pound on the back, and laughed at his surprised face. 

“Daydreaming about her?” He teased.

Jaskier’s phone went off and he answered. Hopefully it wasn’t a woman, Yennefer had grand plans to reunite he and Renfri. It was going to be epic – either a disaster of world ending proportions, or the love of the century. 

Jaskier’s tone was off, his expression tense as he spoke to the caller. He hit the speaker button on his phone and set it on the bar. 

_“Oh God, Jaskier, he’s here. He found-”_

_“YENNEFER.”_

_“Call Geralt,” *pause* “Can you call –“_

“Fuck!” Geralt barked, startling the patrons around them. He grabbed Jaskier’s phone and keys before bolting towards the door. Vesemir flung some cash on the bar and they ran out after him. 

Geralt had the car in gear before their doors were closed, Jaskier holding the phone and listening. 

_Bang. Bang. Bang._

Her husband was ramming Geralt’s apartment door. He wrapped his hands tighter around the wheel and floored the accelerator when the light turned green. 

“Yennefer?” Jaskier tried into the speaker. No response.

_Crack. Bang. Crack. A whimper._

\------  
-Yennefer-

The door was about to go, and the desk wouldn’t keep him back for long. She grabbed the knife she had been using on the pork, and held it behind her back. 

“What do you want Victor!” She yelled. 

His handsome face appeared in the splintered hole between the knob and the deadbolt. His lips curled like a predator cornering his prey. 

“Only what’s mine. I’ll even give you half, to show I’m a good sport.” He purred. 

The lock gave and he began pushing the door against the table, inch by inch across the carpet. The pot of water boiled over and hissed, steam rising and setting off the smoke detector on the kitchen ceiling. 

His voice rose with his anger. “Half of the house, the car, the money, and half of that _baby_.” He roared, finally breaking free of the obstructions between them. 

She held the knife toward him with a surprisingly firm grip. She was in survival mode. Flight wasn’t an option, fight it would be.

“Over my dead body.” She growled. 

He stepped forward, testing her. “That works for me too, darling.” 

\------  
-Geralt-

He tore up the stairs, two, three at a time; Jaskier and Vesemir struggling to keep up behind him. 

\------  
-Yennefer-

He lunged toward her and she sliced the knife into his shoulder, but he wrestled it from her and she fell to the carpet with a sharp cry. She tried to crawl away from him on her elbows, but he had her cornered against the wall that had been home to Geralt’s desk. She held one hand up defensively, the other over her belly. 

“You don’t have to do this Victor.” She pleaded. “This can all go away, I won’t say a word, I swear to god.” 

They heard someone approaching from outside the broken door, heavy footfalls pounding up the staircase. 

“I’m sorry wife, but your word hasn’t meant _shit_ since you became a lying whore.” He slashed at her raised arm, and blood began to pour from her wrist. She pulled it close and raised her other arm, trying to keep him away from her stomach.

He swung again, this time a long gash, almost from elbow to wrist. “Please, stop!” She cried. 

Suddenly he was gone from her field of vision, and something crashed into the coffee table. Geralt had thrown him across the room. He tried to come back for her, chest heaving and eyes feral, but Jaskier shouted a warning from the doorway. Geralt reluctantly turned to face Victor, who had scrambled up from the ruins of the table, knife still in hand. 

Jaskier ran to Yennefer and searched for something to stem the blood flow. He ended up pulling his shirt off, pressing it to the deep cut on her wrist.

“You!” Victor spat. “You’re that fucking _wolf_ that cost me a shit ton of money.” He seemed to put it together all at once. He’d personally watched this man beat the shit out of countless, trained fighters. For the first time since he’d followed her, he began to back up.

“I am. And you’re a fucking worthless piece of shit who beats his wife.” He thundered.

Victor scrambled forward and buried the knife halfway to the hilt into Geralt’s thigh. 

“No! Stop!” She wailed, trying to get past Jaskier and Vesemir who were each holding pressure to one of her arms. Jaskier had the paramedics on the phone, and Vesemir tried to calm her down. 

Geralt barely flinched at the deep puncture. He pulled the knife from his leg, and tossed it across the room. Victor finally had the balls to look terrified.

“I’m going to enjoy this.” Geralt graveled, before slamming his fist into Victor’s nose with a loud crack and a spray of blood. 

Sirens sounded in the distance, and Geralt beat him like a man possessed. He grabbed the front of Victor’s shirt and slammed him into the archway leading to the smoky kitchen and blaring alarm. The sheetrock imploded, leaving a man shaped indent, wooden studs showing from underneath.

Victor hobbled to his feet, just in time for his jaw to meet the bloody knuckles on Geralt’s other hand. His head snapped back like a limp rag, and it took Geralt little time to work over the rest of his face, blow by blow. 

-Geralt-

“Geralt.” Vesemir called. 

The sharp voice of his mentor seemed to snap him back to the present, aware again of the rest of the room. Victor’s near lifeless body was a bloody, crumpled mess. He could hear radios and commotion out in the hall, the paramedics were almost to the door. 

“Yennefer?” Jaskier called, tapping her face lightly.

Geralt let out an anguished howl, and clamored back across the room to her. His bloody hands shook as he pressed them against her pale face. 

“She just passed out, she’s gonna be ok. Breathe.” Vesemir grabbed his shoulder in an attempt to focus the wild look in his eyes. “Breathe.” He demanded.

One long breath in. One long, ratty breath out. 

In some kind of fucked up cosmic irony, she was sprawled out over the mess of blueprints he had hidden behind the desk. Every last one of his dreams was piled right there on his carpet. He wanted to retch. Vesemir pulled him aside as the paramedics shouldered their way in around her. 

Suddenly his thigh screamed for his attention, blood soaking his entire pant leg. There was blood all over the room, and it took him a few minutes to realize that most of what had soaked into the carpet was from his own leg. 

“Fuck” he muttered, before his vision went black and he slumped against his mentor’s waiting arms. 

———  
-Yennefer-

She awoke to whispers. Her dark lashes opened, and her vision cleared. Fluorescent lights glared back at her, different machines and monitors beeped steadily. The two nurses who were whispering took notice, one leaned closer and the other ducked behind the wall of curtains. 

“It’s nice to see you’re awake dear. You lost a lot of blood. Your husband was beside himself.” 

Victor?! Victor was here with her? She tried to sit up, her throat terribly dry.

“Whoa, easy there. You’re not ready to go anywhere just yet. You had two transfusions and fifty-five stitches.” She checked one of the monitors on the side of the bed. She pulled the covers back and adjusted the monitor band across her belly. Guilt washed over her.

“Your baby seems to be in perfect health, don’t even start fretting young lady. The band is just for precaution, the doctor will likely take it off shortly.” 

The woman handed her a cup of water with a smile. “Slow sips now, no big gulps.” 

The curtain pulled open, and another bed was wheeled into the space right next to hers. Geralt was on it, his knee bent and propped above a pile of pillows. He wasn’t conscious, and looked horribly pale. 

Her nurse walked to the foot of his bed and pulled the clipboard, “It looks like you two come as a 'two for one' deal.” She flipped the page, and Yennefer strained to reach her free arm toward him. “Says here that your husband insisted on reading your chart himself before he’d let them put him under, and demanded he be wheeled in with you after.” 

“Under?” Yennefer whispered, her voice catching. 

“He had surgery to repair some of the deep tissue damage in the thigh from the puncture. Looks like he will make a full recovery, he’ll just need a lot of physical therapy. You’ll need the same for your arm.”

“We’ve got that covered.” Jaskier’s voice piped in softly as he slipped through the curtain. 

“There’s our hero!” The nurse chanted under her breath. “This young man donated some of that blood for you dear.” She patted her leg over the blanket and stepped outside the curtain for a few moments. 

Yennefer held her arms out and Jaskier leaned to hug her. “Thank you, for everything,” She whispered. He pulled back just a bit, “Does this mean I get to the be the godfather?” He quipped.

Geralt groaned and stirred. “I am unconscious for a few hours and already I am a cuckhold.” He grumbled, half a grin on his face at the sight of them. 

Jaskier leaned over her to bump knuckles with Geralt, before releasing her and making a hasty exist due to “gross mom and dad PDA”. 

She shuffled as close to him as she could with all the wires and leads they had hooked to her. He wasn’t supposed to move his leg for a while after the surgery. She reached out her hand, bandage covering the stitches in her wrist and he took it in his larger one. His color was already looking better. 

He kissed the back of her hand, and each of her knuckles. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” She pulled his hand to her cheek, relishing in the comforting heat of his skin. 

His eyelids began to fall. “Do they know…have they said anything about the baby?”

She told him that the nurse had reassured her, and pulled back the blanket and her gown to press his hand to the bare skin of her stomach. His breaths grew deeper, and she joined him in exhausted sleep, his hand under hers on her belly.

\------

She woke to the feel of him warm and solid against her back. His arm wrapped over her middle, breath tickling against her cheek. The staff had lost the battle with him and finally relented to letting him pile in the bed with her, leg protected by pillows. They’d removed all the monitors from her except her IV. 

Nurses worked on another patient beyond the curtain next to them. The guy must have been in a car accident, a rib had pierced through his lung, multiple lacerations to the face, broken nose, jawbone, orbital socket, the list they discussed went on. He was restrained, a policeman posted in the waiting room.

He kissed her check and tightened his arm, he was awake, he heard too. The squeak of the nurse’s shoes faded away as they went on to their next patient. A tremor rocked through her body at the thought of Victor so close, even restrained. She pushed the blankets down, pulled the plastic out on her IV, and crept out from under his arm. He raised an eyebrow, but remained silent. 

She steadied herself, bare feet against the cool tile floor, and stepped through the curtain into the next bay. He looked an absolute wreck, Geralt had beaten him so severely he was barely recognizable. A respirator breathed for him, both his arms and legs secured with leather bands. 

A monitor beeped steadily with his heart rate, another machine pumping air into his lungs. She steeled herself, swallowed hard and pulled the plug from the wall with her toes. The steady beeping ceased, but went unnoticed by anyone outside the curtain wall. She leaned over him, his eyes widening when he realized. 

“You’re dangerous Victor, but so am I. Rot in hell.” She whispered.

She wrapped her gown around the respirator cord, and yanked it from the wall. He pulled against the restraints and tried to yell around the breathing tube. She pinched the bloody remnants of his nose shut and closed her eyes against the muted sounds of him struggling to breathe. He had done this to himself, when he hurt her, he had threatened her baby. 

There was little a mother wouldn’t do to protect her child, and so long as he was alive, he would come after her. He would never let her _win_ , to live with trust and love. When he ceased fighting, she pulled her hand from his nose and wiped it on the already bloody collar of his hospital gown. His bloodshot eyes stared upward hauntingly.

She plugged the monitor back in and darted back past the sheet, climbing up in Geralt’s waiting arms. Tears pooled in her eyes and he wrapped himself around her as tight as his leg would allow. 

The monitor booted back to life and began blaring. A team of nurses rushed in. They got the respirator up and running again, but he was gone. Their voices escalated as they tried not to blame each other for not plugging the machine in securely enough. 

“It’s all right. Everything is going to be all right now.” He soothed. She didn’t have to say a word, he _knew_.

Epilogue 

The antique rocking chair glided seamlessly across the wooden flooring of the porch. The sun was setting, and it cast an amber hue over the hills and the city skyline below. A gentle breeze picked up, and she pulled the blanket a bit tighter around the infant’s rosy cheeks. 

The baby fussed, and she slipped down the strap of her sundress, pushing a few errant dark curls aside. Tiny perfect lips took the nipple she offered, beautiful dark blue eyes watching her mother as she fed. 

He padded from the french doors into the fresh air, bending to kiss her softly. “What’s for supper out here?” He traced his finger over the baby’s fine raven hair. 

“Same thing as always. The grown ups had a yummy steak dinner and all she gets is a boring old boob.” She smiled, rocking in the chair again as he plopped down in the one next to her.

“Nothing boring or old about those, that’s the good stuff.” He argued with a smile.

“Did she go down without a fight?”

He pulled out his phone and checked the baby monitor. Snuggled underneath her Winnie the Pooh blanket, their eldest daughter was out like a light, thumb in her mouth, platinum curls strews across her matching pillow. 

“She got three stories out of me, so I suppose, she _technically_ won.” He admitted.

“Have you _ever_ been able to deny her?” She countered. 

“That’s beside the point.” 

She shook her head. He was defenseless against the three of them.

“Vesemir took off for home, he’s got an early practice with the team. He asked that I tell my lovely wife thank you for another phenomenal meal.”

She laid the baby across her chest and patted her back. “And Renfri?”

“Renfri and Jask are…” He leaned from the chair to peer around the porch to the driveway. “Fucking in her car. Rather zealously.”

“Well, if neither of them will admit to their relationship after all these years, at least I can rest easy knowing they’re zealous, and not half assed about it.” She sighed.

“Nope, that’s for sure Jaskier’s _whole_ ass plastered to the window.” 

She stood and readjusted her hold on the baby, he followed. 

“Here handsome, sooth your poor traumatized eyes with this little vision.” She handed him the baby and he tucked her into the crook of his neck, his arm supporting her back. 

“Gladly.” He wrapped his free arm around Yen's shoulders and they crossed into the house as the sun disappeared from the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: 8lb 6oz baby Jesus is obv borrowed from Talladega Nights. Get in Loser from Mean Girls. Basically if it was funny, I probably borrowed it and sure as hell don’t own it. Everything at the hospital is inaccurate, from the curtain walls to sharing beds, to the poor nurses and Yen’s sneaky sneak - *shrug*.  
> There you go, another lunch special from the Yeralt AU angst café XD

**Author's Note:**

> AN: I promise I’m not done with Run to You, pinky swear! Also, don’t know anything about boxing, but you probably could already tell that, hehe.


End file.
